


His Name "Bunny"

by Emono



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: Nixon keeps dragging his best friend and business partner, Dick, to a ritzy strip club where he does all his deals. It's a chore at first until Dick falls head over heels for a lovely dancer named Bunny. Dick is nothing if not a gentleman, he's very polite adn tips well and just wants the best for this beautiful man. Bunny falls for him in return.And Joe is domming Web in the background, if that's something you're in to.





	

**Inspired by[this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrobLyMZ0Qw)**

 

* * *

 

 

Plaisir was Nixon’s favorite place to conduct business and the bane of Dick’s existence. He’d never been a fan of strip clubs, dance clubs, or their dubious morality. As far as clubs went, it was top of the line with good security and a hefty members fee that chased most of the usual scummy deviants away. The bottom floor was more of a party-centric dance club full of flashing lights, go go dancers, glowing accessories, and that classic _thumpa-thumpa_. It was designed in mind for the spoiled kids of the wealthy who took their business to the top floor.

 

There was plenty of insulation to make sure the upper floor felt like a whole different world. There were no dance cages, no hardcore music, no delighted screaming - it was downright _refined_ as far as strip clubs went. There were individual stages for one or two dancers and they were surrounded by fine leather chairs and couches that the members reclined on to talk their business and enjoy the show with hundred dollar martinis. The spacious common room was set in blue-grey lighting and sensual music that set the mood of casual enjoyment. Sometimes there was a base and the room would hush as blood ignited but then the dancer would finish their routine and the conversation would start flowing again. The dancers were stunning, absolutely gorgeous and friendly, and if their routine involved stripping it was always languid like there was no place they had to be for the rest of their lives. Dick enjoyed the conversational aspect - the dancers weren’t objects unless they read their audiences desire to be one. Some of them were quite brilliant. Nixon always chose the best dancers for their tables - sparkling personalities and bright eyes and long legs.

 

Of course Nixon fit right into the atmosphere. Born into money and carrying himself like Tony Stark. Ever since Dick had joined his best friend’s company as partner he’d been getting saddled into these club trips. The clients loved it. It just wasn’t Dick’s scene.

 

o0o

 

“I really don’t know why you like this place,” Dick commented once while they were leaving. He stank of cigar smoke and knew he’d have to get his suit dry cleaned immediately. He made a mental note to bag it once he was back at his apartment so the whole place didn’t stink.

 

“This place is made for people like me,” Nixon chuckled, cheeks rosy and smile wide from one too many cocktails. “Something about sitting down a client in expensive leather with a nice ass in their face makes them give me money. How could I not love this place? You know I’ve invested in it, right? Stocks and everything. There isn’t a scummy tile in the whole building. This place runs legit, Dick. All these dancers paid a base sum and I’m sure the tips are great. You know I take care of anyone I bring to our table. And despite what you might think…”

 

Then Dick couldn’t hear another word because his gaze was outright stolen.

 

The exit from the top floor had a stretch of hallway that had a two-way tinted glass wall to show off the party floor. It was always a mass of young bodies with too many drugs in their system and an obnoxious technicolor dream of scantily clad go go dancers in cages or on poles in various stages of undress. It gave the wealthier members a chance to peek in without getting exposed. Dick’s eyes caught, transfixed, on one of the larger stages in the middle of the dance floor. He could feel the base through the window when he touched it and the trio on stage were moving along to it like they were the ones making it.

 

The trio were playing with glow paint and the stage was struck in flashes of blacklight. The man on the far left took Dick’s breath away. He was laced up in neon pink _combat_ boots with matching Go Go shorts, for Pete’s sake. He wasn’t scary young which was a huge relief because Dick didn’t think he could live with himself if he was getting a stiffy in public from gawking at an underage kid. This was a man, there was no doubt. A man with wild brown hair and honey highlights that caught the strobes. He was dancing his heart out with this _blinding_ smile and bright, wide eyes that were filled to the brim with mirth. He wasn’t cut like most of the other dancers but he had an athletic swell of muscle to him. It was refreshing to see someone _real_ in a sea of supposed perfection.

 

And there was a pink heart painted on his cheek.

 

Dick’s breath caught. He leaned against the glass as the man bent all the way over on the stage to show off the thigh rise of his thighs and the way the shorts cut high on his fat cheeks. Dick almost missed the way the man’s hands dipped in a pink paint canister mounted to the stage. The man straightened and slung his hands out with a flourish, neon droplets flying through the air like brief wings. He slapped his palms on his thighs and drew them in an agonizingly sinful drag over the round curve of his ass.

 

Dick saw his breath fog up the glass as he panted, mouth bone dry as the man threw a cheeky look over his shoulder. It was like it was just for _him_ , their eyes meeting across the dance floor. But the glass was tinted and the surrounding crowd screamed for the pretty dancer. The man dropped to his knees and grabbed some bills from the flailing hands surrounding the stage. Money securely tucked into his shorts, the man dropped down before splaying out on his back with liquid grace. He arched his hips up to make his body one long, tempting curve and his mouth fell open in a lusty groan that Dick would’ve given anything to hear up close.

 

His cock throbbed hotly as he watched the man’s hands run over himself. He tried not to pant like a mutt against the glass but he’d never been so effected by just the sight of someone before. Especially not at a strip club. The man turned over on his hands and knees and arched like a cat. The crowd went wild but a new bout of cheering kicked up when the painted dancer dragged himself in a slow grind against the stage. He was biting his pouty lip like it felt painfully good.

 

Cash blossomed like flowers from the crowd and the man popped back into a big smile, moving onto his knees to collect. Just like that, he was bright and bubbly again. He hopped to his feet and fell back into the baseline.

 

He truly looked like he was enjoying himself.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Not your sort of scene, huh?” Nixon teased, waiting near the door that would lead them into the side exit. “You wanna’ be out there with the kids, Dick?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

Dick saw the kid again. Except he wasn’t a kid. He wasn’t painted up like some of the ladies and twinks but he wasn’t heavily defined like the usual Go Go boy. He was just a cute guy who looked like he was having the time of his life and enjoying his fellow dancers. This time the man was in shorts that laced up the sides and a matching pair of cotton candy blue combat boots.

 

Dick hadn’t been looking for him. He’d just been following Nixon into the tinted-window hallway and there was a brief turn where there was no glass, no barrier. Just the rich and the pulsing night club that belonged to the young and the heavily intoxicated.

 

There he was climbing up onto one of the poled stages as another dancer climbed down. They spoke briefly and the man laughed at whatever the other said. He was still laughing as he took his first wide swing around the pole, lazy and sweeping. But he faltered when their eyes met. It was for real now, no tint to hide Dick’s blatant staring or his dropped jaw. The man’s surprise interrupted his laugh and he suddenly curled behind the pole. It was almost...bashful. The man peered at him, face half obscured by the steel, and Dick couldn’t help but smile.

 

The smile he got back was shy, out of place. God, the man was pretty. He wanted to see him up close and see all the colors in those eyes

 

Dick was jerked out of his musing with an impatient hand on his arm. “Come on. We’re late.”

 

“I’m coming,” Dick grumbled, gaze sticking to the dancer all the way into the tinted hallway.

 

Though Nixon’s mind was almost fully on the important meeting at hand, he still made note of who Dick was watching. He made a note of the dancer’s face and clothes before he yanked his friend faster toward the elevator.

 

o0o0o0o

 

Harry was a long time friend of Nixon and they had always been on good terms. It was the reason Nixon chose Plaisir in the first place and why he invested. Harry had never cared about his money and gave him a hard time when he was an ass but he was a great man. He kept his employees happy and was in one of the most loving, healthy relationships Nixon had ever seen. It was inspiring and bewildering all at once.

 

“You’ve gotta know this kid.”

 

“I know all my employees,” Harry defended.

 

“He’s got big hazel eyes and kinda golden brown hair? Uh,” Nixon searched his memory and remembered the man’s feet. “He was wearing neon combat boots?”

 

That sparked some recognition. “Is he built?”

 

“Nah, kinda soft, I guess. Cute kid.”

 

“That’s most likely Bunny.”

 

Nixon choked on his whiskey and nearly did a spit-take right there in Harry’s nice office. The man grumbled and hurriedly moved some papers away from in.

 

“You’re dribbling, Nix.”

 

“ _Bunny_?”

 

“I don’t pick the names!” Harry flustered, turning pink all over. “He’s just got a lot of energy and he wears rabbit ears and the tail on his holiday outfits.” He ran a hand over his face but he was starting to smile. “It’s actually adorable but it drives the girls wild.”

 

“Bunny, huh?” Nixon repeatedly thoughtfully, wiping his wet mouth. “Okay. I can work with that.”

 

“What are you planning?”

 

“Just a surprise. And maybe an incentive.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

Dick let himself get dragged to yet another meeting at Plaisir. He sat beside Nixon and played the supportive business partner while politely not pointing out how their client was drooling over their dancer. She was a gorgeous blonde with _ringlets_. Dick was a gentlemen, not dead, but that still didn’t mean they had to abandon their dignity. Nixon was simply smoking and letting his offer pour between them like the blended whiskey in their glasses.

 

Dick was listening, he was. He was participating, he was adding comments, he was keeping the conversation on track. But all of that went out the window when his eyes caught on movement from the next stage over. A woman with sharp, greedy eyes stood up from one of the leather couches and offered her hand to the leggy redheaded dancer. They exchanged a few words and walked off together towards one of the private rooms. A replacement came to the solo stage, a man with nervous hands and a familiar face. Dick’s gaze tracked full hips in a pair of tightly cut shorts. The sides dissolved into straps that hugged him tight and shoved off tempting slivers of skin. A thin, sleeveless vest covered him and a silver zipper stood out against the dark material. A simple o-ring buckled around his throat and the leather looked decadent against his sun kissed skin.

 

It was the dancer from before. Clean shaven, hair free of product, and not even a sparkle of glitter on him. He looked as if he’d been caught off guard.

 

But then the dancer - that beautiful brunette with those sinful hips - started moving. His dance was slow at first, a little unsure, but his body tuned to the rhythm of the base soon enough. Dick got lost in the sensual grind of the young man’s body, the curl of his arms and the swell of his biceps as he slowly swung himself around the pole. There were no impressive tricks here, no outlet for all that energy Dick had seen in him on the party floor. The dancers were there for a pretty show while deals were made but this man…

 

Dick wished he were reclined on the couches surrounding _that_ stage. The people here were barely acknowledging him besides some idle, approving smiles.

 

“You like him?”  
  


Dick hummed dismissively at Nixon’s comment but he couldn’t take his eyes away. “He’s nice.”  


  
Nixon leaned in with a toothy grin and Dick barely spared him a glance. “You do.”

 

“He’s good at his job.”

 

“His name’s _Bunny_.”

 

Dick let out an undignified snort and made a show of turning back towards their group. He tried to concentrate on the meeting but his eyes kept sliding back to Bunny. There was something bewitching about the man and he felt like a creep for gawking but it was hard not to. He shouldn’t have been surprised but he still flushed when Bunny caught him staring.

 

Dick expected a wink, maybe a flash of disgust, but was pleasantly taken off guard when he got a syrupy sweet smile instead. Bunny turned to face him and curled an arm above his head, fingers around the pole while the other hand took up the silver zipper. He toyed with it teasingly before pulling at it in an unhurried drag. Dick could almost hear the zipper teeth unlatching as inch after inch of tantalizing skin was revealed. Bunny’s teeth caught on the smooth, pink line of his lip and his brow furrowed up just slightly in concentration. Never once did he look away. Dick wasn’t sure if the heat in the man’s was his own hopeful wishing or more. The vest fell open and Dick could feel the heat in his own cheeks as he devoured the sight. He just looked so _soft_ , like he’d yield under a pair of loving hands.

 

Bunny shed the vest and tossed Dick a wink. _Brat_. Bunny took a spin around the pole pressing pressing himself flush against it, back arched just right to inspire a dozen fantasies.

 

“God,” Dick chuckled under his breath, fingers curling to hide his smile. He made himself turn away then before he completely lost the conversation.

 

o0o0o0o0o

 

“So Captain America is requesting you now?”

 

Tab laughed around a mouthful of rice. Joe had been his roommate since they started at the club together and he was never one to beat around the bush. Of _course_ Joe had noticed Tab getting called up to the top floor when Nixon was holding his little business meetings. Dark hair, charming smile, brilliant, flush with cash - just like Tony Stark. Hence his business partner’s nickname.

 

Tab kicked his feet up on the table and eyed the score of the hockey game they’d flipped to with trepidation. Goddamn Penguins. “He’s sweet, Lieb.”

 

Joe snorted. “You’ve never talked to him.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because you would’ve told me about it a hundred times by now. You’re obsessed with him,” Joe accused before shoveling more beef into his mouth with a skillful flick of his chopsticks. “You talk about his _ties_.”

 

“He has nice ties!” Tab defended with a laugh. He’d been called up almost a dozen times to the ‘Gallery’, as the go go boys called it, but never for a direct dance at Nixon’s table. The tall redhead with the sweet smile and the moony eyes was always there, always watching, and Tab had quickly found himself enjoying it. “He’s sweet, man. I don’t feel like a piece of meat when he’s watching me.”

 

“Gay,” Joe grunted around a mouthful of fried rice.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tab griped. “Listen, it’s like...I don’t know. He’s watching for fun? And _God_ does he tip well.”   


  
“Wait, what?” Joe sputtered. “He fucking _tips_ you? You said you’d never danced for him?”

 

“I haven’t! That’s the weird part!” Tab gushed. “I checked the receipts and everything - I get this fat tip from his table number every time I’m up there. It has to be him, there’s no way it’s anyone else. No one else even looks my way .”   


  
“That’s not the only fat tip he wants to give you,” Joe snickered, ignoring the glare he got. “So he slip you his number yet?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ask for a private dance with a happy ending?”

 

“Nope.” Tab popped a won ton between his lips. “He’s never asked for a dance. I don’t think even think he’s the one who got me up there. I think it might’ve been Mr. Nixon. They’re partners, apparently.”

 

Joe let out a smug, satisfied noise. “I knew it. He’s _married_.”

 

“No!” Tab groaned. “Business partners, dumbass.”   


  
The other dancer waved his chopsticks dismissively. “Sure, whatever. Makes more sense anyways. I’ve only ever seen Nixon with girls in his lap anyway.”

 

“Captain America is just so fucking nice,” Tab sighed dreamily, thinking back on those blue eyes and that striking figure. “I need to find out his real name.”

 

“Don’t let some cash and a couple nice gestures fool you, man,” Joe advised, scratching the back of his head with the clean end of a chopstick. “Soon he’ll be trying to get it for free or follow you home. You know the types - they play a gentleman for a couple days and then make it seem like you owe them something.”

 

“I know,” Tab assured him, picking at his rice. “I don’t think he’s like that, though.”

 

“Just be careful, man, okay? I trust Nixon a little but I don’t got shit on that partner of his.”

 

“I’m always careful.” Tab grinned at his friend. “And you only trust Nixon because he brought you that Harvard professor who likes to suck your dick.”

 

That made Joe’s ears burn scarlet. “Oh shut the fuck up.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

‘ _Come with me? Please?_ ’ Nixon whined over the phone. ‘ _I hate these guys and they always love you for some reason_.’

 

“I’m busy,” Dick liked. He had a headache from just the memory of these particular investors. “Just shut up and charm them, Nix. They’ve got deep pockets and they’re not particularly smart. Milk them dry.”

 

‘ _Dick_.’ He really was whining now.

 

“Nix-”

 

‘ _It’s at the club_.’

 

Dick cleared his throat and tried to hide the eagerness from his tone. “So...when is it, again?”

 

‘ _Tonight_.’ He sounded much too smug.

 

“I’ll be there.”

  
  
‘ _Fuck yes_ ’, Nixon heaved in relief. ‘ _Don’t worry, I’ll get your boy there. I promise to make it worth it._ ’


End file.
